Much Ado About Nothing
by VergofTowels
Summary: This is a story about Gakuto's hair. Actually, the hair of the whole Hyotei tennis team. ...And why do they all care so much? Crackish. XD


...XD This was a request from LJ.

Disclaimer: I don't own PoT!

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Gakuto frowned at the mirror, squinting one eye and sticking out his chin. He pursed his lips. He stuck his tongue out, just a little bit, then the whole way, waggling it up and down and trying to touch his nose. He raised an eyebrow for effect.

None of this was really helping. There was still a tuft of hair standing up straight on the left side of his head.

"Huff!" he huffed, flinging his arms haphazardly around to rest crossed against his chest. "This is so annoying…" Glaring at himself, he reached forward into his locker… and very nearly screamed. Yuushi was watching him amusedly in the reflection. Hurriedly, he whipped around and backed up, hiding his locker shelf from view. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"This is the Hyotei locker room, is it not? Or perhaps I'm lost. In that case, kindly direct me to-"

"Yes yes yes, but why are you here _now?!_ I thought you had English this period." He carefully shut his locker, arranging himself to lean casually against the row. He resisted an insane urge to flat down his hair.

"I was under the impression that so did you. Perhaps I was mistaken." Oshitari sat down on the bench across from him, still smirking in an irritating fashion. The silence dragged, and Gakuto felt himself growing uncomfortable under his doubles partner's stare.

"What?" he snapped, glowering. "Stop looking at my hair."

"Your hair?" asked the taller boy, as if he was just now realizing it. His eyes lifted to the cowlick and his smirk grew even wider. "You do seem to be having some difficulties. Did I interrupt something?"

"No, now go away." Gakuto could feel his face burning.

"Ah, but perhaps you need assistance?" He stood and moved closer.

"No, I _do not!_" He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. He watched in embarrassment as Yuushi opened his locker and removed a black can of hairspray.

"Maybe this will help." He shook it and a jet of cold mist settled onto the cowlick. Nervously Gakuto smoothed it down, but to no avail.

"No, apparently not. Now go away."

"But I haven't tried everything yet." Replacing the hairspray, the blunet rummaged around and removed a bottle of mousse.

"Why do you even have that?" asked Gakuto, eyeing the pink bottle distrustfully.

"A female admirer gave it to me." And with that smooth Kansai accent and supremely confident tone, Gakuto had no choice but to believe him. "Hold still." White foam encompassed the errant tuft, and Gakuto again smoothed it down. Unfortunately, all he succeeded in was making a portion of his head sticky.

"Nope." He sighed frustratedly. "Now _go away._ I will deal with it."

"Deal with what?" Choutaro asked, still holding the door open. He smiled at his sempai. Shishido, from behind him, glanced at them with distaste.

"You'd better not be doing something disgusting," he warned, eyes narrowing.

"Gakkun has a personal matter that he just can't seem to resolve," sighed Oshitari, gesturing vaguely. "He required a helping hand."

"I do _not_ want to know. Come on, Choutaro." He stormed away behind the next row of lockers, shuddering.

"Um, what happened to your head, Mukahi-sempai?"

"What? Nothing!" He swung open his locker and peered closely at the mirror on the door. There were now _two_ tufts of hair sticking up on the left side. "Oh crap…" He growled an unintelligible curse and pulled a comb out of his pocket.

"Have you tried gel?" Helpful kohai that he was, Ohtori began to search through his bag.

"Have you tried shaving your head?" Ryo put in encouragingly from across the room.

Choutaro made a reproachful face in his direction and handed a small silver bottle to his sempai. "This always works, trust me."

"Oookay…." he replied dubiously. But a generous dollop did nothing but split the two tufts into three. Sigh. "No go, Choutaro."

"Funny, that usually works."

"What works?" Haginosuke slipped into the clubhouse, racquet bag on shoulder. He looked questioningly over the tableau.

"Mukahi-san has a cowlick…or three. And my gel didn't work…" He looked slightly crestfallen. Shishido rolled his eyes and absently patted him on the shoulder.

"I have just the thing!" Taki piped, flopping down on the bench. Whistling to himself, he removed a large number of hair-care products from his bag, all in various shades of grey and black, but still… managing to look very girly.

"Do you honestly carry all that around with you?" snarked Shishido, looking at the mountain dubiously. He adjusted his hat, frowning at his teammate.

"Yes! I need them… And that's why I don't have to wear a hat all the time. I bet your hair is a mess under there." He rummaged through the hoard. Shishido spluttered, undignified and embarrassed.

"What is this, a slumber party? Does Ore-sama have to give you laps?" Atobe snapped his way through the gaggle of players, scattering them off to their respective rows and heading to the showers. Finally.

FINALLY. Gakuto was alone. He slowly peered down the row, but was satisfied that no one was going to jump out at him. He reached into his locker, pulling out a bottle of bubbly pink liquid. His favorite strawberry-scented gel poured from the adorably petite bottle onto his hair, magically smoothing away the disturbances. He recapped it, blew a kiss at his mirror, and flounced outside. Everything was right with the world once more.

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